Hate F*@k six years later

Cole

The last thing I did before falling asleep was fuck my wife, and now, seven hours later, I need her again.

Two God damned miracles in one: I slept a solid seven hours, and when I reach Hailey, she’s already awake—enough. Awake, willing, and slick between her legs. I cover her mouth with one hand as I notch us together, my thick cock eager to claim her pussy.

“Shhhh,” I remind her.

She whimpers as she nods. Our new house echoes in unexpected ways. We’ve ordered carpets, but until they arrive, she needs to keep quiet for me so we don’t wake the baby. We’ve found a way to make that a fun game.

My curvy little captive, trapped in the big monster’s bed. His to fuck, his to breed. Put another baby in her belly. Fill this house in the suburbs with all the children she wants. Fuck. I pump my hips faster, that fantasy just as good. My wife, my gorgeous fucking wife, who brought the most exquisite hope to my life.

I’m the real captive here. I would do anything for her, including leaving the city behind so we could have property for the kids to grow up on. A yard they can run in.

Hailey rolls her hips, sliding her sweet cunt up to the tip of my cock. Trying to escape. I snap my hips, burying my length inside her. Not gonna let you go. Her tight channel squeezes me, sensation rippling down my erection. Fuck. Yes, that. Always that. The grip of her pussy drives me wild, makes me rut harder, faster.

Her mouth falls open, her tongue wet against my fingers as I keep her quiet, and she shifts her hand between her legs, reaching back to stroke where I’m entering her, where her hot little cunt is stretched tight around my thick dick.

I picture her dragging her slick need back to her clit. I can feel her shaking now, as she rubs herself there, getting there fast, and I lose control. Nothing but fucking now, my hand falling away from her mouth as I clench the mattress. She twists her face, pressing it into the sheet, and then we’re both coming, hard and fast.

She spasms first, that tight pulse milking me, and then I’m spurting into her. Deep. Fucking all the way deep, right where it counts.

My wife.

Gonna make her pregnant again.

There’s a stillness when we finish, when I hold myself inside her, after the last few slow twitches have stopped. Then she giggles, and turns her face to look at me.

“Morning,” she mumbles. Her face is puffy and creased from the pillowcase. Her hair is frizzy and untamed. She’s fucking beautiful, fucking breathtaking, and I can barely handle it.

I take her face in my hands and kiss her, hard on the mouth, then disengage and move fluidly off the bed. “Stay there,” I order.

She giggles again.

I get her a warm washcloth, then clean up the come that didn’t stay inside her. I stroke her pussy gently, because she’ll be sore after being fucked morning and night by a man who can never, will never get enough of her.

“What time do you have to leave?” She stretches her arms over her head. Then pulls the blankets back up, and closes her eyes.

I’m meeting my colleagues for breakfast. A rare in-person gathering of the men of The Horus Group. We’ve scattered on the wind now, but we’re brothers in arms for life. “Soon. Go back to sleep.”

 

***

 

Wilson scowls at me when I get out of my SUV. “You’re late.”

“Traffic was nuts.” I glance around. “Tag’s not here, either.”

Jason, who is leaning against a rental car, waves his hand at the country club we’re meeting at. “Yeah, because you moved to buttfuck nowhere.”

“We moved to McLean, not Siberia. You two motherfuckers took off to the West coast.”

“And we still made it here first, how about that?”

“Hailey wanted a yard for the kids.” I shrug, and grin, because I don’t fucking care what they think. “Plus I like the eighteen-hole course here.”

“Cole Parker, country club member. I cannot fucking believe it.”

“The Eggs Benedict are good, too.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Wilson glances over his shoulder as another black SUV arrives. Our fourth partner. Tag Browning, the only one remaining in D.C. proper. “Now lead us to these eggs, they sound delicious.”

Inside, I get a nod of recognition from the hostess, then she leads us to the table I reserved. A private corner on the terrace, where we can watch the restaurant but most people won’t see us.

“Another advantage of this place,” I mutter after we’re settled. “Excellent people watching.”

Senators, business types. The occasional arms merchant. My new neighborhood has some professional advantages.

That’s not why we’re here today, though. They really do have a good breakfast menu. And we have some catching up to do. Kids, first. Wilson tells us how Tabitha and his munchkins are first, then I share my own update. Leaving out the filthy parts, I admit that we’re ready to add another baby to our family. “And not to be selfish about it—”

“We’ve all earned the right to be selfish,” Jason interjects.

A surprisingly human reaction from him. His woman, the reason he’s now on the West coast, is definitely good for his soul.

We all nod.

Then it’s Tag who admits what we’re all apparently feeling. “I don’t want to be involved in the next election cycle. We have enough security work to stay out of politics.”

“There are other ways we can lend support,” Wilson adds. “Should it be needed. So we’re in agreement, then? If any candidates approach us, we’re officially off the market this next round?”

I nod, relieved. “No dossiers. No background work. Nothing that might put our kids at risk.”

Jason nods tightly. “That’s more than fair.”

We pause to place our orders, and once we’re alone again, the conversation shifts. To long term plans and foreign policy we all care about. To hiring new people, and investing in younger folks who don’t have kids, who can do the work independently.

And then, when we finish, we promise to do this again soon.

“In Malibu next time,” Tag says when we’re outside, standing by our vehicles.

Jason laughs. “Fuck you all if you think I’m joining a country club.”

“He did. One down, three to go,” Wilson counters.

“Et tu?”

“They were really good fucking eggs.”

“Country club egg experience may vary,” Tag deadpans.

True story.

“See you guys on Monday.” Virtually, that is. It turns out, working remotely is a piece of cake when you have the right tech infrastructure. I wave goodbye, then get in my SUV. I have one more stop to make before going home again.

 

***

 

My passenger for the last leg of my morning out is a bit anxious. And noisy. Exceptionally cute, though, so when she shreds a hole in the side of the overpriced carrier I bought at the shelter, I can’t blame her.

“We’ll get you a nicer ride for the next trip in the car, Princess.”

The mewling cat climbs up my arm and perches on my shoulder.

“This can’t be safe.”

She purrs, as if to say, I’ve heard you’re trained in defensive driving in a war zone.

True, but not the point.

We make it back to the house without incident—other than the claw marks in my arm and shoulder—and I text Hailey from the driveway.

 

Cole: Can you help me carry something in from the car?

Hailey: Yep, it’s nap time, be right out.

 

She appears a moment later. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. I’m relieved to see her arms are protected. Her brow is furrowed, maybe wondering why I haven’t gotten out of the vehicle yet.

Then she sees us. Me, behind the wheel of the car. Princess, perched on my shoulder.

And my wife bursts into tears. “You didn’t,” she whispers as she races to my window. “Hello, you beautiful thing.”

That. Right there. The sweet way she coos as this cute little monster. It’s the same gentle love she’ll forever give our kids, and strangers on the street.

Hailey is the best person in the world, the kindest heart I’ve ever met.

“I figured we have the white picket fence and the family… It was time to get a furry friend, too.”

“Does she have a name?” Hailey is still stroking her, like my shoulder is a good place for this cat to just live.

“I’ve been calling her Princess.”

“And she is a perfect princess, yes she is.” My wife finally scoops her up, freeing me to grab the other supplies from the back of the vehicle.

Hailey follows me, snuggling Princess the whole way. “What is all of this?”

A cat climbing tower, two litter bins, a wide assortment of food options for her highness, and a toy mouse. “I may have gone overboard.”

Hailey gives me an adoring look, and then, while cradling Princess in one arm, wraps her other hand into my shirt and tugs me down. “You know what, Cole Parker? I fucking love you.”

“Language, woman.”

Her laugh feeds my soul. “Oh, my bad. I fucking love you so fucking much.”

And then she kisses me until I’m hard, until I don’t care that Princess has climbed onto my shoulder again.

As soon as we get inside, that cat is going to be introduced to the toy mouse, the fancy food, and the climbing tower. Because I need to be buried in my wife again, just like clockwork.